Smiling down at his raging erection, I gripped his cock in one hand and lifted myself over him, slowly impaling myself on his hard, oh so thick shaft.
“Oh. Ah... Jinny!” he moaned out in ecstasy, his cock twitching impatiently inside of me.
"Reverse cowgirl, baby!" I chuckled, my breath catching when he bucked up, thrusting himself even more into my already snug sheath.
"Release me, Jinny!" he demanded, writhing beneath me in both consternation and alternately pleasure.
"Nu-uh," I argued, running my hand over his sac, letting my nails trail down his testicles leisurely as he grunted and fought his bonds, gooseflesh breaking out all over his skin at my attentive ministrations.
A loud series of rips rent the air and his hands came around to grip my hips. As I began to move he spread his legs wider, leveraging himself to counter my thrusts with his own, pulling me down and over him harder and harder, deeper and more insistently as it culminated into a fierce, maelstrom of pleasure.
It all came crashing down as quickly as it built, the pleasure, that slight edge of pain, ending in a dual climax, our bodies exploding together in sync, our simultaneous shouts of release echoing off the walls.
When we’d finally spent ourselves, we slumped together happily on the bed, tired yet sated slump.
Sweaty and panting, we laid there in a tangled heap, neither one of us ready to do or say anything just yet.
"Wow," I mumbled, quite emphatically, if I do say so myself.
"Fuck ya," Vincent said on an amused chuckle, topping my sparkling witticism.
"I need to tie you up more often, bambi," I giggled out, earning a well-deserved slap on the ass.
"Watch your mouth, Jingle Bells, or do I need to teach you another lesson?" he grumbled in his best stern voice.
Biting my lip and peeking at his junk, I eyed his resting penis quizzically. "Can the little bambino stay awake long enough to play?"
As I watched, I got the response I was looking for, pinned and pleasured by my very lusty, amateur stripper boyfriend, making me beg for mercy.
Then, to top the night off, there was a series of concerned knocks on our door, not ten minutes after round two, as our mothers came to investigate to make sure we weren't trying to murder each other.
˙˜˙˜˙
Seven months later
˙˜˙˜˙
"Jinny, are you even listening to me?" Mom barked at me from across the line.
"Nope," I admitted freely, without an ounce of remorse, giggling when Vincent climbed back into bed butt naked and rubbed his hands lovingly over my protruding stomach.
"It's just not right!" Mom reasoned. "You two should get married!"
Watching, I giggled again when the baby kicked and Vincent grinned, tickling the spot where the baby's foot had poked against my belly.
"Put me on speaker, Jinny Belle!" I put it on speaker and her voice boomed throughout the bedroom. "Vinny, dear?"
"Yes, Mrs. Reynolds?" Vincent responded, only half listening, my body trembling in renewed arousal as his butterfly kisses grew much more determined, heading south for further exploration.
"Mom! Vincent! Call me mom!" she harrumphed at him.
"Yes, Mrs. Reynolds," he said distractedly.
"What on earth are you two doing over there?!" A pause and then, "Hello? Are either one of you even listening to me?"
"No," we said simultaneously, Vince pulling back to crawl up my body and kiss me passionately.
"Well I never!" Mom huffed indignantly.
Rolling my eyes, I laughed at my mother's exasperation and decided to cut her a break. "Alright, Mom, we are all ears," I promised.
"I don't see why you can't just get married now, before the baby is born."
There was a knock at the front door and we both looked at each other questioningly and shrugged.
"Mom. I gotta go, someone's at the door! Love ya, bye!"
"Jinny! But I...”
Pulling it away from my ear, I clicked the phone off and hopped out of bed, smiling when I heard the tell-tale scrape of Dean's spare key turning in the lock.
Vincent walked over and locked our bedroom door, not relishing the idea of being walked in on by the big blonde baboon I'm so overly fond of.
"Should we tell her we'd eloped three months ago?" Vincent asked while he searched for his wayward briefs.
"Nah." Tossing pillows back onto the bed, I waved my hand, grinning as I held up his underwear for him, pulling my hand out of his reach when he would have snagged them from me.
"And why not, Mrs. Miller?"
"I like to watch her squirm." Waving his underwear, I giggled evilly. "We'll tell her soon, I promise. Just let me have this moment to let her sweat it out."
"You are positively evil, my Ice Queen," he murmured huskily, pulling me closer, wrapping his arms around my ever expanding waist as I wrapped my arms around his neck, his underwear still clutched in my hand.
"Blame it on mistletoe." I winked at him.
"Mistletoe?" He smiled at me questioningly.
"Mmm hmm," I murmured, biting at his lips. "I got some in me and it's ruined me," I explained, to his delight.
"Really?" he whispered in that sexy, stern voice that gives me chills. "Well, it sounds like you've been mistletoed, wife," he murmured against my lips.
"I have, but only with you, hubby." Cheeks pinkening, I smiled, leaning in to nuzzle his neck. "And you've thoroughly jingled this belle," I giggled out, squealing when he pulled me towards the bed, his ardor momentarily distracting me from the incessant knocking at our bedroom door, letting me know that my bestie was getting impatient. I couldn't be bothered with that at the moment, though. I had a hot, willing husband, ready to give me his mistletoe, and at least fifteen minutes until Dean started threatening to break the door down.
Ahh... life is grand!
The End
BIO
Jeanette Lynn lives in California with her Incredible Hunk, two young children, and slightly eccentric terrier mix, Magpie. She enjoys caffeine free soda and a good happy ending.
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Jingle Belled and Mistletoed Page 11
